


Written on my skin

by stellecraft



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Aramis' children, First Time, Foursome - M/M/M/M, M/M, Soulmarks, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Threesome - M/M/M, d'Artagnan's first time, implied Athos/Porthos/d'Artagnan during the war, season 1 episodes 1 and 2, season 3 episode 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 08:37:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7215334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellecraft/pseuds/stellecraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>D’Artagnan had been different all his life. While most people had one soulmark he had three.</p>
<p>Aramis, Athos, and Porthos met after the Savoy massacre. They had found each other during that trying time but they all had the same soulmark on their ankle. A fourth member of their bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Written on my skin

**Author's Note:**

> I've been reading to many soulmark fics and the idea got caught in my brain and refused to be dislodged. This was meant to be maybe three pages or around 1000 words and suddenly I decided to add their finding each other again in season 3 and it spiraled into over 5000 words and just barely eleven pages.

         D’Artagnan had been different all his life. While most people had one soulmark he had three. One wrapped around his wrist, another on his hip, the last across his shoulders. His mother used to joke that one of his soulmates was a lover, one was practical, and the third was strong. He had yet to meet them but they seemed to all be connected. Two of them seemed to be having a conversation. The last one was a question. His father told him that they may be platonic soulmates, best friends, but d’Artagnan hoped it was love.

         His mother had told him the story of how he and his father met. She had been walking in the market and he had run into her. She had called him a clumsy idiot and he had told her she needed to look where she was going instead of burying her face in her book. They had hated each other for a while. Their parents had pushed them together constantly after they had found each other and they despised it. When their feelings manifested they discovered that their families had already betrothed them. D’Artagnan hoped that his parents wouldn’t do the same thing when he found his soulmates.

         D’Artagnan pulled himself into the saddle and glanced back at the house. He was going with his father to Paris to petition the king about lowering the taxes in Gascony. Their lord had been replaced with a brute when the Treville had become the Captain of the Musketeers. LaBarge had raised the taxes and people were struggling.

         They reached an inn near Paris after two days’ ride. D’Artagnan was stabling the horses when he heard the commotion. He shot one man and almost wounded another. The attackers died and he held his father as he died. The innkeeper managed the get them inside. The next morning d’Artagnan saddled his mount.

         “Son?” d’Artagnan turned and the innkeeper passed him some food. “He said his name was Athos of the King’s Musketeers.”

 

* * *

 

 

         D’Artagnan was in trouble. He was running from some guards after he had been accused of killing the companion of the woman he spent the night with. He spotted a woman in the marketplace and grabbed her.

         “I’ll give you five lieve to kiss me.” The woman’s eyes went wide and he kissed her. When he pulled away he grinned and she hit him. “Ow.”

         “You don’t just kiss a lady on the street.”

         “I thought you were a working girl.”

         “This is my best dress.” The woman screeched at him.

         “Madam I apologize. Could you point me in the direction of the musketeer’s garrison?” He was pointed in the proper direction and got five steps before lights flashed on the edges of his vision then it went black.

         D’Artagnan came to in a small room. The woman he had kissed was sitting on the edge of the bed. She glared at him as he grabbed his shirt.

         “Where are you going?”

         “I can’t stay here I must go. I have an appointment with the musketeer Athos.”

         “I know Athos. What do you want with him?” d’Artagnan didn’t answer and left. He made his way to the musketeer’s garrison and stood briefly outside the gate. He took a breath and strode in.

         “I’m looking for Athos.” Three men on the stairs turned to face him. Shock flitted across their features for a moment before the one at the bottom stepped forward.”

         “You found him.” D’Artagnan drew his sword and discarded his sword belt.

         “My name is d’Artagnan of Lupiac in Gascony. Prepare to fight one of us dies here.”

         “Now that’s the way to make an entrance.” The man he had challenged turned to glare at the speaker. D’Artagnan sucked in his breath. The first man’s words matched the ones circling his wrist. The second man’s words were the words the spread across his hip like a lover’s caress. He glanced at the third man and disregarded him. He focused on the man he had identified as Athos.

         “Can I ask why?” The man stood half relaxed, half in a fighter’s stance.

         “You murdered my father.”

         “You’re mistaken. I am not the man you are looking for.”

         “MURDERER!” d’Artagnan rushed the man and the man engaged him. He fought hard until the man he had identified as Athos managed to get his back to a pillar. He jammed a knife over d’Artagnan’s head and walked away. D’Artagnan pulled the knife free and threw it. The other two joined Athos and they fought until a shrill voice echoed across the courtyard.

         “Stop fighting all of you.” The woman he had kissed strode into the garrison. “Is three against one fair?”

         “We weren’t going to kill him.” Athos put up his sword turning towards her.

         “Were we?” The third man who had yet to speak finally spoke and d’Artagnan recognized the words scrawled across his shoulders.

         “Next time let us know.” The second man to speak sheathed his sword.

         “Madame Bonacieux, what are you doing here?”

         “I followed him because I knew he was going to do something stupid.”

         “I don’t need you to protect me.”

         “Don’t say another word.”

         “Him I’m not sure about. Her I like.” The second man joked as the Red Guard entered the garrison alongside the man d’Artagnan recognized as Treville. Madame Bonacieux moved closer to d’Artagnan to keep him from doing something else stupid.

         At Treville’s question, Athos gave his report. Then Treville handed him over to the Red Guards. The other two sheathed their swords with audible clicks as d’Artagnan looked confused. He had been certain that this was the man who had killed his father. Yet he had claimed to be innocent and his captain believed so too. Athos handed over his sword and turned towards the d’Artagnan.

         “I’m not the man you’re looking for.”

         D’Artagnan watched him walk off surrounded by guards and realized that if he wanted to he could have fought his way out. He let Madame Bonacieux lead him back to the house.

 

* * *

 

 

         Aramis and Porthos had stiffened when the young man had entered the garrison with his shouted words in search of Athos. Athos had stiffened as well. They had found each other early in their musketeer careers. Aramis had Athos’ words of “good shot” across his knuckles and Porthos’ “you’re all right” over his heart. Porthos had Athos’ “stand down” twisting along his lower arm and Aramis’ “help me” on the side of his hip. Athos had Aramis’ “they’re all dead” wrapped around his wrist and Porthos’ “help me get him on a horse” on his shoulder. All three of them had “I’m looking for Athos” around their left ankle. Aramis had assumed, correctly it seemed, that the words were addressed to them as a group. It made sense that it would be in the same location on all of them.

         Aramis had seen the mark that wrapped around the young man’s wrist. When he had read it quickly during the fight he had seen Athos’ “You found him” there. He had seen traces of writing on the man’s hip and across his shoulders. He looked at Porthos as they tried to figure out a plan to rescue Athos.

         “He carried Athos’ mark on his wrist and I caught glimpses of two more, one on his hip and the other across his shoulders.”

         “Do you think he’ll help?”

         “If he realized it he might help.”

 

* * *

 

 

         D’Artagnan was changing when a hand descended on his neck, tracing the mark along his shoulders. He jumped and turned to find the other two men that had been at the garrison. The third to speak had been the one tracing the mark on his neck.

         “Can I help you?” He tried not to shiver as the hand returned to between his shoulder blades.

         “This is mine.” The man smiled. “We’ve been waiting for you.” Another hand descended to his hip.

         “May I?” The second man had a hint of mischief in his eyes. When d’Artagnan nodded, the man tugged down his breaches and smallclothes down enough to see. He traced it with a finger then took d’Artagnan’s wrist. He traced Athos’ words with a smile then took d’Artagnan’s shirt and helped him into it.

         “What are your names?” D’Artagnan took the sword belt that the third man handed him and belted it on. “What are we going to do about Athos?”

         “I’m Porthos.” The third man pointed at the second man. “The flirt over there is Aramis. As for Athos, you said he killed your father. Were you there?”

         “I shot one of them.” They rode to the inn where d’Artagnan’s father had been killed then went looking for the musketeers that the uniforms had been stolen from. They found the entire contingent dead, their uniforms stripped. Using Madame Bonacieux, Constance, as bait, they attacked the men who killed their friends. D’Artagnan killed the man who had killed his father and they rushed to the prison with the letter of pardon for Athos. They heard Athos shouting for them to shot him and got there just in time. Athos was released and Aramis and Porthos rushed to his side. He rested his hands over what d’Artagnan assumed to be his marks on them. Athos glanced at d’Artagnan as he passed him and d’Artagnan held up his wrist where Athos’ words circled it. Athos mounted behind d’Artagnan and wrapped an arm around the younger man’s waist.

         “I’m sorry for the loss of your father.”

         “I’m sorry I accused you of murdering him.” D’Artagnan felt Athos shift behind him so that he was more stable and reached to touch the mark on d’Artagnan’s wrist.

         “We would have never met if it weren’t for this. Do you have the marks for the other two?”

         “Left hip for Aramis and along my shoulders for Porthos.”

 

* * *

 

 

         Athos pulled the sleeping Gascon into his arms on his cot. The man had fallen asleep after a night of drinking with the three of them and Athos had decided that he was going to keep the younger man in his rooms for the night. Aramis and Porthos were sprawled on the rug in front of the fireplace, their legs tangled together with a blanket draped over them. He had marveled over how d’Artagnan fit into their dynamic so well. Treville had readily accepted d’Artagnan into their midst. He had apparently known d’Artagnan’s father before the king had made him the captain of the musketeers. Athos reached out and traced his words on d’Artagnan’s wrist. D’Artagnan shifted so that he was pressing his face into Athos chest. Athos smiled and pulled the other man closer as he settled into sleep himself.

 

* * *

 

 

         D’Artagnan woke warm in someone’s arms. He stretched lazily and looked around. He recognized Athos’ rooms and could see Aramis and Porthos on the rug in front of the fireplace. He smiled when he realized that Athos was the one with his face buried in his shoulder. He reached a hand back and ran it through Athos hair. The man grumbled and pulled d’Artagnan closer. D’Artagnan gently freed himself and walked over to Aramis and Porthos. Porthos opened his eyes and looked him over before adjusting himself so that d’Artagnan could see his marks. He adjusted Aramis in his arms so that d’Artagnan could see his marks as well. D’Artagnan traced fingers over the marks.

         “It’s a conversation.”

         “Athos and I were sent to investigate a situation with musketeers in Savoy. I had just joined and was in awe of working with the best swordsman. I don’t think Athos and I said a word to each other until we reached the campsite. It was a massacre.” Porthos touched the mark on Aramis’ knuckles. “It was this one first, then the mark on my arm, the mark over Aramis’ heart, the mark on my hip, the mark on Athos’ wrist, and finally the mark on Athos’ shoulder.”

         “Good shot. Stand down. You’re all right. Help me. They’re all dead. Help me get him on a horse.” D’Artagnan ran a hand through Aramis hair. “Aramis shot at one of you. Athos ordered you to stand down and you approached Aramis. Aramis’ plea for help to you and I’m guessing Athos was checking for other survivors. Finally, you got him on a horse and you brought him home.”

         “Pretty much.” Porthos tugged d’Artagnan down on top of him and kept him there with an arm around his waist. Aramis shifted in his sleep to throw an arm over d’Artagnan’s hip. Porthos hand traced the words over d’Artagnan’s shoulders with a small smile.

 

* * *

 

 

         Athos was livid. D’Artagnan was presumed dead and they were chasing the man that blew up him up. Vadim had taunted them about their lover being blown up and then they had been thrown into the walls by the explosion. They were fighting their way through Felix’s men when Athos caught a glimpse of something moving further down the tunnel. He killed the last man and run down the tunnel to pull d’Artagnan into his arms. Aramis took one look at d’Artagnan’s bloody sword and grinned.

         “Athos love let’s go get the bastard.” Athos let go of d’Artagnan and stalked off towards the river. They found Vadim on the ground with the jewels he had stolen, around him on the ground. They watched as he died and collected the jewels. They returned them to the palace. Athos had gripped the back of d’Artagnan’s neck as soon as they were dismissed and steered him to Aramis rooms. D’Artagnan found himself pressed back into a wall the moment the door shut behind the four of them. Athos was using his body to hold d’Artagnan against the wall. One of Athos’ hands circled his wrist while the other was fumbling with the ties of d’Artagnan’s doublet. Porthos pulled Athos back enough to let Aramis slide between the two of them and stripped d’Artagnan of his doublet and shirt. He winced at the bruises appearing all over d’Artagnan and pushed against Athos until he could pull d’Artagnan away from the wall. He led d’Artagnan over to the bed and pushed him to sit on it before he grabbed a cloth and wet it. D’Artagnan flinched as Aramis gently washed the dirt out of his cuts.

         “Don’t ever do that again.” D’Artagnan looked up to see Athos staring at him. “Don’t ever get that close to death again.”

         “Athos I can’t guarantee it. I’m a musketeer.” D’Artagnan took Athos’ hand and let him trail his fingers over the mark on his wrist. He reached up with his free hand and pulled Athos in for a kiss. Athos relaxed slightly as d’Artagnan’s lips touched his. He let go of d’Artagnan’s wrist to cradle his face in his hands. D’Artagnan pulled away and smiled. He looked down at his pants and smallclothes and grinned before standing up. Undoing the laces on both he let them fall to the ground and stepped out of them. Aramis’ hands instantly came up to rest on the mark on d’Artagnan’s hip. D’Artagnan pulled Aramis in for a kiss. A warm body pressed against his back and d’Artagnan reached a hand back to clasp the back of Porthos’ neck. Aramis tugged him into a kiss with his free hand and Porthos’ hands settled and tightened on his hips as Porthos sucked a mark onto his neck. He felt a set of hands between him and Porthos, undoing Porthos’ buckles. Porthos removed his hands from d’Artagnan’s hips to let Athos remove his clothes.

         D’Artagnan pulled away to watch as Porthos was stripped. Aramis was striping as well and Athos was naked. When he was naked, Porthos pulled d’Artagnan into a kiss and let his hands slide down to grab d’Artagnan’s ass. He kneaded at d’Artagnan’s ass and grinned when d’Artagnan moaned.

         “I can already tell you are going to be tight and wonderful.” He looked at the other two. “Who gets him first?”

         “Aramis.” Athos rested a hand on Porthos’ shoulder. “He’ll be gentle.” He tugged Porthos away and let Aramis take Porthos’ spot. D’Artagnan watched as Porthos pushed Athos onto the bed and took the oil that had been set to the side. He watched as Porthos slicked up his fingers and slid one into Athos. Aramis caught his attention with a kiss then led him towards the bed. He settled d’Artagnan comfortably and reached for the oil. Athos twisted to pull d’Artagnan into a kiss. D’Artagnan stiffened when he felt a finger press against him. Athos pulled away to run a finger over d’Artagnan’s lips.

         “Relax. It will feel better for you.” Athos let out a little moan and closed his eyes briefly. He opened them and glared at Porthos who grinned innocently. “Let me focus, you insatiable minx.” Porthos did something with his fingers and Athos gripped d’Artagnan’s wrists hard as he moaned.

         “I’ve got three fingers up your ass and you’re still trying to hold a conversation. I’m obviously doing something wrong.”

         “Maybe if it was something other than your fingers.” D’Artagnan felt the finger slide in and he tensed up even more. Aramis stopped and looked at Athos who sighed and kissed d’Artagnan. D’Artagnan felt his body relax and the finger slid in further. Aramis began feeling around until he pressed on something that made d’Artagnan’s back arch and his entire body tense up then relax. He took a shuddering breath as a second finger was added and Aramis began to scissor them, brushing against the spot that had made him feel so good. He clenched his hands on Athos shoulders, using him as an anchor. He heard Athos moan and opened his eyes to see Porthos sliding into Athos. Athos gripped d’Artagnan’s wrists, his expression one of pure bliss. D’Artagnan felt Aramis’ third finger enter him and forced his body to relax. Aramis pressed a kiss to d’Artagnan’s knee in approval. When he felt that d’Artagnan was ready he pulled his fingers out and positioned d’Artagnan on his hands and knees.

         “It will be easier on you like this.” Aramis lined himself up and began to slowly press in. He swore as d’Artagnan instantly tensed up and ran his hands down d’Artagnan’s sides, tracing the words on his hips. He saw Athos force his eyes open through the pleasure and see d’Artagnan’s discomfort. Athos moved so that he could kiss d’Artagnan and d’Artagnan lost himself into the kiss. Aramis used the distraction to slowly push all the way into d’Artagnan. He reached around to stroke d’Artagnan back to hardness and the other man pulled away from Athos to moan. He pressed back against Aramis as he relaxed and Aramis began to grind into him slowly. Aramis slowly moved to slow, languid thrusts into d’Artagnan and angled himself to brush against d’Artagnan’s prostate. D’Artagnan arched into Aramis and let out a long string of swear words that ended with a moan of Aramis’ name. Aramis wrapped a hand around d’Artagnan’s dick and stroked it in time with his thrusts. D’Artagnan clenched around him unexpectedly and came. The sensation pulled Aramis over the edge as well and he pressed deep into d’Artagnan. He rolled them over as he pulled out and moved d’Artagnan to rest against his chest. Porthos and Athos finished soon after them and they arranged themselves so that they were all touching d’Artagnan. Porthos traced his words over d’Artagnan’s shoulders.

         “So?”

         “So I think I need to experience all of you.” D’Artagnan grinned at Porthos.

 

* * *

 

 

         D’Artagnan followed the young man through the secret entrance to the monastery. Porthos and Athos were at his back. He was alert for any signs of movement around them. Before he would have trusted Aramis to have his back but his soulmate was no longer with them. He had chosen to stay at the monastery when they had gone to get him those four years ago. In the four years, the three of them had been in battle d’Artagnan had all the softness stripped from him. For the first few months he had hoped that Aramis would come join them but after the first year, when the mark on his hip, the mark around Athos’ wrist, and the mark on Porthos’ hip had faded, they had given up hope. Recently new marks had appeared on them in the same spots. The words of “this is not possible” now covered the areas where Aramis had once pressed kisses to in pride of his words on his lovers. D’Artagnan had cried the night the mark had disappeared and Porthos had tried to desert them, to hunt down Aramis to make sure he was still alive. He hadn’t made it very far before he had turned around and come back. Athos had been the one to hold the two of them together.

         D’Artagnan noticed the figure ahead and pushed the young man he was following aside as he drew his sword. He rushed forward, Athos and Porthos following him.

         “Who’s there?” The figure toppled a barrel and moved further down the dark hallway. Another barrel was toppled in their path and the figure moved to hide behind some boxes. “Show yourself.”

         “Stop! Stop!” The young man rushed forward as Aramis moved slowly from behind the boxes. “Not him. This is…”

         “Aramis. We know.” D’Artagnan lowered his sword. The three of them sheathed their swords and d’Artagnan and Athos smiled. Porthos made a noise of disgust and turned away.

         “This is not possible.” The three of them tensed and d’Artagnan’s hand went to his hip. He moved forward, smiling broadly and pulled Aramis into a hug, mindful of his armor pressing into Aramis’ body. He pulled away and Athos approached.

         “You still have that knack of getting into trouble, brother.” He pulled Aramis into a hard hug and pressed a small kiss to his neck, out of sight of the young man they had followed down here. Aramis turned to Porthos with a smile.

         “Porthos.” Porthos looked annoyed and pulled away as Aramis tried to hug him.

         “Your name’s Porthos?” The young man looked at them in awe. “After the hero in the stories?”

         “Stories? I was named after my mother’s father.”

         “You are _the_ Porthos?” Porthos nodded and the young man’s eyes lit up with more awe. Porthos winked at him.

         “This is _the_ Athos.” Aramis took Athos’ shoulder and rested his hand over Athos’ heart. “And _the_ …” He faltered at Athos’ heartbeat and d’Artagnan finished for him.

         “D’Artagnan.” He shook hands with the younger man who was staring at them all with awe.

         “The stories were true.”

         “Our reputation proceeds us.” Athos glanced in Porthos’ direction, knowing he had yet to say anything to Aramis. Porthos had taken Aramis leaving them the hardest and he knew that his first words to Aramis would be harsh.

         “Our God moves in mysterious ways.” Aramis’ eyes were drawn to Porthos who was keeping his distance.

         “Not that mysterious. We’ve been stationed in the valley below.” Porthos’ tone was bitter. D’Artagnan winced as Aramis’ face fell. “A little thing called the war.” The other two looked away at Porthos’ rudeness.

         “We know all about the war here.” Aramis was irritated and he challenged Porthos. “Especially these little ones.” He moved, striding past Porthos. “Children. Come out. Meet my friends.” A young girl came running out while the others moved slower as they moved from their hiding places. The three soldiers turned as Aramis knelt next to the children. “Now we just need to get them to safety.”

 

* * *

 

 

         Porthos was approached by one of the children who looked at him and called for Aramis when he said hello. Aramis came over and knelt so that she could whisper in his ear.

         “Well let’s ask him.” Aramis looked up at Porthos still staying at the child’s level. “She wants to know if you’re a giant.” Porthos smiled despite himself.

         “I won’t eat you.” He leaned in a bit. “Because I’m not hungry. Yet.” The little girl hit him hard in the upper leg and ran off. He winced. Aramis watched her go, still on his knees.

         “I think she likes you.”

         “She’s got a funny way of showing it.” Now that it was just the two of them Porthos turned bitter again.

         “It’s good to see you again my friend.” Aramis rose to his feet and moved to hug Porthos again. “It’s been too long.” Porthos turned away.

         “It wasn’t my choice.” Aramis moved in front of him.

         “I could not go to war with you Porthos.”

         “We were comrades. I never had to worry what was behind me because you,” Porthos pressed a finger into Aramis’ chest, “You had my back.”

         “I made a promise to God. A vow to myself.”

         “What about your vow to us? The marks that bound us together as soulmates? Four years. That’s a long time. We learned to live without you.”

         “When your marks disappeared from my body I worried. I thought you were dead. I made myself move on. A month ago three new ones appeared. Porthos they matched what you three first said to me here.” Porthos gave him a long look then turned and walked off. Aramis watched him go. D’Artagnan slung an arm around Porthos’ shoulders while Athos talked quietly to him.

 

* * *

 

 

         They got the monks away from the guards and into the tunnels and sent Aramis after them with the children. Aramis kept glancing back, knowing that the three of them would be trying to destroy the gunpowder before it fell into the hands of the Spanish. He had the children and the monks hide as he filled a piece of fabric with rocks and attacked their followers. He stole a sword and prayed that his skills were still the same as they were four years ago. He managed to fight off all the attacks before he heard one of the little girls yelling. He ran back to where he had hidden them and let himself slide down the hill as someone tried to shoot him. He engaged and managed to kill all the ones he could find and turned to see Luc, the young man who had brought his soulmates back to him stabbed. He raised the pistol and shot the man between the eyes before he ran to Luc’s side.

         “Luc!” Luc sat up with a grin.

         “You really are a musketeer.” Luc pulled out the block of wood he had hidden over his heart that had protected him. Aramis sighed with relief.

         “Bit rusty right now.” Luc pulled him into a hug.

         “Go. Your soulmates need your help.”

         “How…”

         “When you spoke the first time two of the three went to touch places on their body. My mother did that when she talked about my father. Porthos seemed heartbroken. They need you. Now go.”

         “Stay hidden and keep them safe.” Aramis took off back the way he came. He went to the main entrance, shooting his way in as the fighting started and after they opened the gates for the Spanish. He saw the other three holding their own and began taking precision shots to make their lives easier. D’Artagnan was the first one to spot him and grinned. Athos nodded in his general direction after his attacker was shot. Porthos ignored him as he climbed on the wagon. Aramis jumped on one of the horses as the driver was distracted by Porthos. The two of them joined the other on the driver’s bench and Aramis grabbed a few barrels of gunpowder. He threw them and shot the so they exploded buying them time. They stopped at the bridge as Aramis unhitched the horses and Porthos lit a bomb. He tucked it in the wagon and braced himself to push. Aramis ran up.

         “Do you need help with that?” Porthos spat the musket ball he had put in his mouth at Aramis.

         “Just shot straight.” Aramis looked slightly offended and loaded his musket. Aramis shot as the wagon went over the edge and Porthos threw a lit bomb down after. “It’s about to get hot.” He and Aramis ran for cover, throwing themselves into a ditch as the gunpowder exploded. As the ringing cleared from their ears they started to laugh. Porthos pulled Aramis in for a harsh kiss. Aramis was breathless when he was released.

         “Now are you going to try to tell me you didn’t enjoy that?” Porthos smirked and Aramis grinned.

 

* * *

 

 

         Athos watched Porthos lift the little girl who had hit him earlier into his arms. He smiled and looked around, not finding Aramis.

         “So,” D’Artagnan scuffed at the ground with his boot, “do you think we’ll need three or four horses?” Athos handed his reins to d’Artagnan who grinned after him as he entered the sanctuary. He heard Aramis speaking in the balcony and waited out of sight.

         “I thought I understood your plan when my marks faded. You seemed to be showing me another path. Then the new marks appeared. In the middle of all the danger and excitement today, you brought them back to me. In all my years here I never felt so alive. This is what you made me. A musketeer. A lover. You gave me three soulmates because without them I find trouble.” He looked back as Athos made his presence known and joined him.

         “You are many things Aramis, but a monk is not one of them.” Aramis wrapped an arm around his shoulder, leading him to a bench where they could sit. He tugged Athos close to him. “You know d’Artagnan cried for a full night when your mark on him disappeared. Porthos started made it a mile into desertion before he turned around and came back.”

         “And you?”

         “I tried to hold us together. I knew that one day we would see each other and that you would need us as much as we needed you. When the marks came back, different words but same spot, I was elated. It meant we would see you soon.”

         “You can’t argue with God.” They left the chapel and Aramis mounted up the horse that d’Artagnan had prepared for him while they were inside. He smiled as they decided to ride for Paris, silent as he let the voices of his soulmates wash over him. They stopped briefly to pass around a bottle of wine before they urged their mounts forward. Aramis held back for a second to watch them ride ahead of them. He was riding into a difficult situation. Porthos was still very much on edge with him, something that wouldn’t be fixed just through what they had gone through today. D’Artagnan had married Constance when her husband died to protect her and give her freedom. There was the queen, the woman he had slept with and produced a child, that was the reason he had been driven to the monastery to begin with. Athos glanced back over his shoulder at him and Aramis urged his horse forward. They would figure it all out together.

**Author's Note:**

> In my interpretation they all changed drastically either due to the war or being in the monastery causing them to lose the other mark. They all assumed the other group was dead because the mark(s) disappeared. When it became apparent that they were going to reconnect with Aramis, who had changed from the man they once knew, they therefore had a new set of words.


End file.
